


nine dark places

by vagarius



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fondness, M/M, Vignettes, them being soft idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vagarius/pseuds/vagarius
Summary: Tsukishima’s face softens with the ghost of a smile. “Thanks,” he says, grabbing the water bottle with delicate hands, “Kageyama.”or: love, in a series of moments





	nine dark places

**Author's Note:**

> i started this fic, like, _at least_ a year ago. probably more.
> 
> loosely based on [the prompt](http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/153028436861/a-15-sentence-story-about-finding-love-in-the) "A 15 sentence story about finding love in the darkest of places," except i changed "sentence" to "part" and 15 to 9.
> 
> but it's still about love, i think.

_i. the road, late at night_

“Tsukishima,” Kageyama calls out quietly, stopping under a streetlight.

“Hm?” Tsukishima turns around, calculating the stiffness of Kageyama’s shoulders and the tightness of his fists. He keeps one hand placed strategically in his pocket, the other one holding his bag, then tilts his head in obviously fake interest.

Kageyama’s teeth visibly clench. Tsukishima briefly wonders if Kageyama catalogues Tsukishima’s reactions just as Tsukishima catalogues his. He wonders if Kageyama can even see him. Kageyama sucks in a breath and holds it. He bows. “Thank you,” he grits out, looking more murderous than grateful. Tsukishima almost teases the specifics out of him, even though Tsukishima knows what he’s thanking him for (homework help, yet again), but Kageyama has never gone out of his way to thank Tsukishima on his own.

Tsukishima smirks. “Not a problem,” _King,_ his mind finishes, but the moniker feels wrong before it even hits his tongue. His smirk flattens. He looks away. “Kageyama,” he quietly supplies, self-consciously hitching his bag higher.

Kageyama’s head shoots up at the name, but Tsukishima has already started walking away.

 

_ii. in the rain_

"You looked," Kageyama starts, then repeats, "You looked cold."

Tsukishima glances at the umbrella held over his head and wonders when the rain started. Dimly, he acknowledges the wet dripping from his clothes, and listens to the distant pitter-patter of water against the pavement. The fabric of the umbrella is blue.

"I'm not cold," Tsukishima corrects. He feels numb. "How long have I been out here?"

"Too long, evidently, if you're bothering to ask me." Kageyama plants a hand on Tsukishima's shoulder to push him forward. Tsukishima's body jerks, but his feet know what to do, somehow, even if his brain isn't quite sure. Kageyama says something else, but the words tumble around like useless gravel in his ears.

He still feels numb. Kageyama's hand is warm.

_iii. the moment after the streetlights turn off_

“You’re early,” Kageyama says, jogging forward before falling into step beside him. The dirt crunches much too loudly under his feet.

Tsukishima clicks his tongue. “Maybe I have something to do before practice,” he replies, too tired to conjure up a smirk. The lights above them flicker off, leaving the sky blue-green and dim, like the ocean. His bones feel heavy under its watery weight. “Not everything is about volleyball, you know.”

Kageyama ignores the jibe, then narrows his eyes at him. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have something to do before practice.”

Tsukishima side-eyes him, before shifting his gaze away. “No,” he quietly admits.

Kageyama’s eyebrows draw downwards, but he doesn’t question him further. “Okay,” he says instead, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Tsukishima still feels heavy, but it’s as if some of the weight has been lifted from his bones.

_iv. a locked closet_

"I can't believe they Iocked the door. Are they stupid?" Tsukishima rolls his eyes and turns his head around, expecting to see Kageyama with an irritated scowl on his face or an insult on his lips, but instead finds Kageyama shaking like a leaf behind him. "Oh." Tsukishima turns his body fully, tilts his head. "Are you," he asks, awkwardly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm f-fine," Kageyama answers, and attempts to stop trembling. His efforts are in vain. "I just d-don't like enclosed s-spaces, is all."

Kageyama trembles harder, and as much as Tsukishima wants to ignore it, he wants Kageyama to feel safe even more, and he isn't quite sure what to make of that. He tentatively holds his hands in the air. "Can I," he says, pushing aside his confusion for later, and blurting out the first thing he thinks of, "Can I touch you?"

Kageyama's breath hitches for all the wrong reasons, but he still nods in confirmation, eyes wide. Before he can re-think it, Tsukishima brushes his hand on Kageyama's shoulder. Kageyama flinches, but doesn't otherwise pull away, so Tsukishima sets his palm down, then his fingers, then tightens his hold.

They breathe.

Eventually, Tsukishima sets down his other hand, and slowly, almost unconsciously, pulls Kageyama closer. When they're chest to chest, Tsukishima lets go of Kageyama's shoulders in favor of wrapping his arms around them, and holds tight.

And if at some point, long after the shaking stops, Kageyama winds his arms around Tsukishima's waist, and buries his face in the fabric of his shirt, they don't mention it.

 

_v. in plain sight_

“Here,” Kageyama says, shoving a plastic water bottle into Tsukishima’s field of vision. Tsukishima lifts his gaze, watching as Kageyama’s eyes dart away from him. “You forgot yours, didn’t you?”

Tsukishima’s face softens with the ghost of a smile. “Thanks,” he says, grabbing the water bottle with delicate hands, “Kageyama.”

Kageyama blinks at him, like he’s waiting for the catch, but when Tsukishima simply opens the bottle and begins to drink, his face subtly brightens with confused delight. “Okay,” he says, the word useless but for the warmth of it, which settles quietly on Tsukishima’s cheeks.

_vi. under the table_

“Still need my help, huh?” Tsukishima teases as he flops down next to Kageyama. There’s no real bite behind it, and Kageyama knows this, but Kageyama bristles anyway, if only for the routine of it.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, lightly elbowing Tsukishima in the side before pulling out his notebook. “I still don’t get it.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Kageyama elbows him harder, this time in the arm, and Tsukishima rubs his bicep in fake hurt. “Wow, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Tsukishima subtly elbows him back, but doesn’t otherwise retaliate. “Well then, what does the great Kageyama not understand about his – “ Tsukishima leans closer to glance at the contents of the notebook – “Japanese lit homework?”

“You’re an ass,” Kageyama replies. “And, uh.” His voice gets quieter. “All of it?”

They stay huddled over the notebook, knees and shoulders knocking together, and still elbowing each other on occasion. Kageyama’s literature interpretations are exasperating, and Tsukishima is a touch too teasing, but it’s warm, sitting like this, like every point of contact is glowing softly like a nightlight.

_vii. pressed against your sleeve_

There’s the drag of a chair against the floor, and then weight flops down onto Tsukishima’s shoulder, warm and only somewhat unexpected. Silky hair brushes against the side of his neck.

“Good morning,” Tsukishima greets, monotone, not pausing in his movements. He takes his notebook and pens out of his bag then leans over to place his bag on the floor by his chair. Kageyama moves with him.

When Tsukishima sits back up again, Kageyama’s face is pressed against his arm instead, and Tsukishima can feel his nose smooshed against his bicep. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye, traces the curve of his spine under his school-issued sweater, at the peek of wrinkled dress shirt escaping from under the hem. “You’ll hurt your back like that,” Tsukishima points out. Kageyama groans in answer and presses his face harder against Tsukishima’s arm.

Tsukishima pats his head and laughs.

_viii. in the dark of your bedroom_

Tsukishima stares forlornly at the rain pounding outside the window. The water is coming down in sheets onto the pavement, and Tsukishima can practically already feel the water seeping into his shoes. He sighs, bracing himself, toeing off his indoor slippers to change into his outdoor shoes. “Wait,” Kageyama says, while Tsukishima is still in only his socks. “You can.” Kageyama pauses. “You can stay here. If you want.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, but it only takes one more look at the rain outside and one at Kageyama’s deliberately neutral expression for Tsukishima to smile gratefully, then say, “Thank you.” Tsukishima pads away from the door in his socks, leaving the indoor slippers by the door. After a moment of deliberation, he places a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, soft and tentative and (hopefully) everything it needs to be. “Really, thanks.”

Kageyama nods, then leads the two of them back up to his bedroom, where their school stuff is still scattered around the floor amongst the odd neatness that had previously resided there. They clean in silence, then get ready for bed in turns, and after they set up a futon, Kageyama climbs into it and pointedly closes his eyes before Tsukishima can even protest. “You get the bed,” he says, eyes still closed, and Tsukishima snorts fondly before complying. Kageyama is aggravatingly stubborn, sometimes, but when Tsukishima turns off the lights and carefully steps over him, it’s hard to summon any aggravation at all.

They lay there for what feels like a long time. Then Tsukishima rolls over, and it’s like something breaking, and when he says, “Come here,” Kageyama is already halfway out of the futon and joining him under the sheets, his body firm under Tsukishima’s hands as something delicate flutters in his heart.

_ix. with my eyes closed_

Tsukishima watches as colors dance across the back of his eyelids, dull and magnificent all at once, but never overwhelming. Everywhere is warm, except for his toes. He tries to sneak them under the covers to no avail.

He breathes.

"I love you."

Kageyama shifts his hold around his shoulders, and huffs out a breath of his own. "Love you too," he mumbles, "Now go to sleep."

Tsukishima laughs, more air than sound, then lets the darkness of sleep wash over him.

 

 

 


End file.
